Coming Over
by MorphailEffect
Summary: (FINISHED) ToriShishi. Second-year Ohtori, not yet a Hyoutei regular, is tired of being a pushover. He decides that the very last task he accepts from anyone else is calling up Shishido and returning something he'd left behind.
1. Default Chapter

DISCLAIMER: 

Konomi Takeshi owns Prince of Tennis and its characters. I don't. 

NOTES: 

Gen fic, very work-safe. It's just rated PG for intensive swearing. 

Actually, I have no idea what Ohtori and Shishido's families are really like, so I'm bound to get a couple of important things wrong in this fic. But I'll appreciate corrections, and will try to fix the details accordingly. 

"Rambo" is a common name for dogs in this area of the world. I think it's cute. 

Was listening to "Angels and Devils" by Dishwalla while writing this. Might be good to listen to it while reading, too. ;) 

******************************

  
  
**Coming Over** (Part 1)   
by MorphailEffect 

  
If Ohtori had a complex, it was about being too nice. 

He'd spent his entire childhood wearing the tags of "good boy" and "pushover." Was it never going to end? 

The coach, Sakaki-san, had even said it himself, in his first year...if he kept up with his intensive training, he stood a good chance of becoming a regular in time for the next division tournaments. Yet Ohtori didn't think his status in the club was improving, even if he _was_ getting better at tennis. 

He was still the goody-two-shoes, the easy victim. He'd plodded through middle school with the hope that he would gain a little respect if he became a regular in the famous Hyoutei tennis club. Moreover, during his second year, he'd shot up several inches suddenly. He was no longer small enough to be stepped on by his peers...or even by his upperclassmen, who had delighted in making the "good little freshman" run errands for them. 

Still, there he was...picking up the phone at an upperclassman's behest. 

_"Ohtori-kun," -- it was Takafumi-sempai, grinning -- "Shishido left his schoolbag in the locker room again. Do take it, then call him up tonight to tell him you have it, will you?"_

He had said "Okay, sempai" before he could stop himself. And as his upperclassman and his friends were walking off, Ohtori got the impression they were laughing among themselves, finding it amusing how easy the big, broad-shouldered junior was to order around. 

He hated this. 

He promised himself he was going to do just what he needed to do: call up Shishido-sempai and tell him he had his bag. Then he wasn't even going to think about it anymore. 

There was no need to look through his tennis club members directory for Shishido's number. Ohtori had memorized it. He had probably called Shishido up dozens of times already, always at the request of his upperclassmen. Shishido seemed to have a habit of leaving his important things within school grounds. He also seemed to have a habit of not answering calls, in which case his upperclassmen didn't hesitate to task Ohtori to call him up at his cell phone over and over until he caved and picked up. 

In the past, Shishido always picked up after the fourth try or so (Ohtori suspected he really made his callers wait. Shishido-sempai was so vain). And he was always annoyed and terse on the other end, as if Ohtori had interrupted something important. "Ah. Got it. Thanks." Then a click, then a dialtone. Conversation over. 

That didn't seem to be the case this time. 

Shishido picked up after the third ring, on the first try. When he said "What?" in his usual annoyed manner, Ohtori was so surprised that he stammered. 

"Ah, se -- sempai, I -- sorry, I hope I didn't disturb -- I mean, I wanted to tell you -- " 

"Lemme guess. You have my bag. Again." Ohtori was having trouble hearing Shishido. There were loud voices in the background, occasional shrieks, some crashing sounds. Was Shishido-sempai watching television? 

"Ah...hai...sempai..." 

"Well then, come over here to my house and give it to me." 

Crash. Shriek. Shishido-sempai should really turn that television down. 

"I'm sorry...could you repeat that, sempai?" 

"I _said_ come over and -- god!" Shishido's voice slightly muffled, as if he was holding his hand over his cell phone's receiver to cover it. Poorly. "Get the hell out! I was trying to study and _now I'm on the fucking phone!_" The noise at the background did not change in volume. Ohtori heard Shishido's voice close to the receiver again. "You know where I live, right? It's on the directory. Big white house. Can't miss it." 

"Yes, but -- but -- " _But my address is on the directory too. So why don't_ you _come over and pick up_ your _bag_ yourself? "But it might take a while, sempai, and it's time for dinner, and -- " 

"I need that bag, Choutarou. I have a big quiz tomorrow and most of my notes are in there." 

Ohtori was about to argue further, but he took a deep breath, and his arguments faded into thin air. 

"...Hai. I understand." 

"Yeah, hurry up." Click. Dialtone. Conversation over. 

He put down the phone feeling miserable. 

The truth was he did _not_ understand. 

******************************

Ohtori's mother was not pleased that he had to leave the house just when dinner was about to be ready. He promised her that he would be back soon. He was just going to return a clubmate's bag, and the clubmate didn't live that far away. 

She was felt easier about it then, and said she was going to wait until he came home before serving dinner. So he had better come home quickly! 

Ohtori never liked having to be out of doors impromptu, and making his mother worry. He liked it even less if he went out of doors at his upperclassmen's request. He told himself firmly, as he slung Shishido's bag over his shoulder and took his bicycle out of the garage: this was the last time. 

It was true, Shishido's house wasn't that far from his. Sometimes the two of them came across each other on their morning jogs, and struck up rather pleasant chats -- well, as pleasant as Shishido could make them anyway. Shishido liked to swear. His fiery delivery made Ohtori wince, he wasn't used to standing so close to someone with such a strong personality. 

On his bike, Ohtori located Shishido's address in less than ten minutes. Big white house. He wasn't kidding. Shishido's house was HUGE. It had a large front garden. The European-style gables peeked over the tall white walls. 

Shishido himself was standing outside the imposing black iron gates, leaning back looking unfriendly. He had his bike with him. He was dressed for going out, which puzzled Ohtori... 

"So you made it," Shishido drawled by way of greeting, brushing back long strands of rich brown hair away from his face with one hand. "Thanks," he said as Ohtori handed him his bag. And then he proceeded to act as if Ohtori was not there. 

"Um..." Ohtori tentatively began, "is sempai going somewhere?" 

Shishido shot him a "none of your business" look. But he answered loftily, "Yeah. Can't stand it here. You can't hear it, but it's a fucking mess in there. And I need to study." 

Ohtori glanced over at the big house through the elaborate gates. Nearly all the windows were alive with a soft light, and the whole place was elegant, peaceful. There were no signs of a "mess." 

"So...where is sempai going?" 

Shishido's "look" deepened into a scowl. "What do you care! Jesus, he brings my bag over, he thinks we're buddies or something..." 

"I-I didn't mean it like that!" Ohtori said hastily. "I mean, it is rather late for a student to be out on a school night. And does...Shishido-sempai have anywhere in particular he wants to go?" 

Shishido tossed his head up, downright snubbing the lowerclassman. There was a thoughtful look in his eyes, though. Ohtori realized, it wasn't so much snubbing as it was looking away before Ohtori could see his indecision. 

"I was wondering if...Shishido-sempai would like to come over to my house. It would be easier to study there." 

... 

Where did that come from? Just because of the surprised look on Shishido's face, Ohtori wanted to take back what he said and tape his big mouth shut. 

"What do you mean, come over?" Shishido demanded. "As in sleep over?" 

"If...sempai wants." 

"I don't think so. I haven't brought any clothes or anything. And I'm not going back in that hellhole just to pack." 

Everything else simply spilled out of Ohtori's mouth. "Sempai doesn't have to worry about clothes! My younger brother is his size, I'm sure he'd be okay with lending sempai some things to wear." 

For a moment Shishido's face lingered between resentment and amusement. It was a curious thing to see. Then he just snorted. "Heh. No thanks, I'm not wearing any little brother's clothes." Seriously, again: "I'm just going to your house to study. Just to study, alright? When I'm done, I'm going home. Things should have quieted down by then." 

Relief washed over Ohtori. He smiled and nodded. 

They rode their bikes back to Ohtori's house, silent all the way. They could have spoken, but all topics would have been awkward. _What was that noise I heard, sempai? Was there fighting at your house? I thought that was the TV. Was it your parents? Did you get hurt?_

And there was an intense look on Shishido's face, like he was deep in combat with an unpleasant thought. If Ohtori imposed on it, he was just going to end up being pushed away. 

Ohtori sighed to himself. So he was setting himself up to be used by another upperclassman, was he... 

So why was it that this time, he didn't _feel_ used? 

******************************

A troop of puppies (just six puppies, actually) greeted the two as they made their way to the front door of Ohtori's house. Shishido jumped back, alarmed, before any of them could reach his feet. 

"Wah?! What is this? Who opened the kennel?" Ohtori quickly bent down to pick two gleeful puppies up with one large hand. Then he gathered up a third. But that was all his arms could carry. "Sempai, gomen...please help me gather them up. They shouldn't leave the house..." 

Shishido scowled. Ohtori ran into the house and deposited the puppies in his arms somewhere, while Shishido sprinted around the yard trying to catch the three remaining. 

He grumbled mightily. He was aiming to be a regular in the prestigious Hyoutei tennis team, dammit. Puppies shouldn't confusticate him like this. They seemed to enjoy being chased, too. The little bastards were darting around, taunting him with barks and yelps whenever he came close. 

He caught one, placing his hand under its belly in the gentle way he saw Ohtori do it. He hugged it close while he captured another one. The little devils felt surprisingly soft and warm. 

Ohtori emerged from the house and held his arms out for the two Shishido had caught. Shishido was handing them over when Ohtori glanced over his shoulder and cried "Ah -- Rambo!" 

Shishido turned. A pudgy black puppy was swiftly and surely making its way to the low front gate, to freedom. In a flash, Shishido was behind it. He swept the puppy up, and it twisted and struggled violently in his arms. 

Ohtori saw Shishido's face break into a rare grin while the black puppy angrily chewed his hair. 

"Heh," Shishido said to it. "Well you're damn cute, aren't you..." 

Ohtori darted back into the house and quickly deposited the two puppies he was carrying into the kennel. Then he approached Shishido again, but didn't make a move to take the puppy back. He couldn't keep from smiling. 

"His name is Rambo. He's the rowdiest of the lot," he explained. 

"...Rambo." The puppy growled irritably at the mention of its name. "_Ii namae._" 

"Ah..._okaeri_, Choutarou-kun," came a voice from the doorway. Shishido quickly knew that the slim young-ish woman standing there was Ohtori's mother. The resemblance was unmistakable. 

"I'm sorry, Choutarou-kun...your brother was playing with them in the kennel, but he accidentally left the door open. I hope they didn't trouble you and your friend..." 

"Not at all. Please don't worry," Ohtori assured her. "Mom, this is Shishido Ryou-sempai. I invited him to stay over and study. Is it alright?" 

"Of course it's alright." Her smile was angelic, sad. Ohtori's smile was a frail replica of hers. "You two have to come in now. Dinner's ready." 

"We'll be right there." Ohtori glanced over at Shishido. "You haven't had dinner yet, have you, sempai?" 

Shishido blinked. The puppy in his arms fell motionless as well. It looked up close-mouthed at Shishido with what seemed to be curiosity. "Uh...no, I haven't. But it's okay, I don't..." 

"You'll eat with us, then," Ohtori declared. He made way for Shishido to enter the house, and Shishido did, with a silent puppy settling into his arms. 

  
  
(to be continued) 


	2. Chapter 2

NOTES: 

I planned to make this fic short, and it worked out. This is the last chapter. Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed! 

Special thanks to **_sailorstarsun_** for pointing out that Hiyoshi and Ohtori are from the same year. I've replaced Hiyoshi's name with a random one. There are over 200 members in the Hyoutei tennis club, after all. I'm giving one of the non-regulars an identity and a bit part ;) 

And to **_Violintide_** for pointing out that it's FUTON, not tatami :) 

Regarding timeline: the story is set shortly before the ranking matches for the year's division tournaments. Ohtori isn't a regular yet. I dunno about Shishido, though... 

Still "Angels and Devils" by Dishwalla. 

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**Coming Over** (Part 2)   
by MorphailEffect 

  
Ohtori noted with much amusement that the formerly impossible black puppy liked being in Shishido's awkward embrace. There was no arguing that Shishido and Rambo deserved a little more time together. Ohtori smiled, sat on the front steps and started unlacing his rubber shoes. 

"We're selling them, actually. They're big enough to be parted from their mother," he started to say, "but sempai can adopt Rambo if he wants." 

Shishido seemed to ponder this. He looked down at Rambo thoughtfully. Rambo licked his chin. He jerked back in surprise, but grinned. 

"...Nah, Mom won't let me keep him. Pets dirty up the house." 

As he spoke, Ohtori reached over to unlace his shoes. Shishido let him, said "Thanks" in his usual flat manner as he stepped out of his shoes and entered the house after Ohtori. 

The two were well into the house when it hit them, simultaneously, that it was actually a weird thing to have happened. 

"Uh..." Shishido looked away. 

To cut the awkwardness short, Ohtori stuck to a safe topic. "I've had all sorts of pets since I was little. But I've always liked puppies best." 

"Heh. Makes sense. You're like a big puppy, yourself." 

It would have been an insult, coming from anyone else. But the way Shishido said it, his face still glowing with affection for the trusting creature in his arms, made it sound like a real compliment. 

His first compliment from a sempai...? 

Ohtori didn't dare think of it like that. 

"Remember to wash your hands before coming to the table," the two of them heard Ohtori's mother call out from another room. 

"Alright mom," Ohtori called back, just as Shishido gave an alarmed cry. 

_"Sempai!! Doushita?"_

Shishido was holding Rambo away from him with both hands. The puppy was panting adorably and waving its paws in the air in a feeble attempt to regain contact with Shishido and his...wet shirt. Shishido's face was frozen in an expression of shock. 

_Oh no..._ Ohtori quickly took the (happily relieved) puppy from Shishido before any harm could befall it. Shishido was grimacing, holding the damp shirt away from his skin with the tips of his fingers. Despite himself, Ohtori chuckled. 

"Looks like you're going to have to wear some of my little brother's clothes after all." Ohtori wanted to laugh more, but he didn't want to add insult to injury. "This way to the bathroom, sempai..." 

******************************

Shishido was extremely choosy about the shirt he was going to wear. He insisted that it had to go with the color of his hair. Ohtori didn't know what that meant, but he presented Shishido with nearly everything in his little brother's closet. Shishido-sempai was so vain. 

Finally, more out of exasperation than any real liking, Shishido chose a gray long-sleeved pullover. Ohtori took time out to notice that it suited him well. 

When they came to the dining table, Ohtori's mother and little brother were already sitting. Ohtori's mother welcomed them with a smile, but the little brother was not as pleasant. 

"You guys sure took long!" the little brother admonished. "I'm starving!!" 

"I know, I know. Sorry," Ohtori said emphatically. It was interesting for Shishido to note that even his little brother had a stronger personality than Ohtori did. 

Shishido grabbed his chopsticks right off and made for the delicious-looking dumplings. He stopped in mid-air when he saw that Ohtori's entire family was looking at him with an amused expression. 

"Uh...what?" He drew his chopsticks back. 

Ohtori chuckled. "Nothing, it's just...we pray before meals." 

"Oh." He put his chopsticks down prudently, more embarrassed than he was willing to show. "Well, then." He put his hands together and bowed so low his forehead almost touched the tabletop. 

Ohtori could tell that Shishido had never said mealtime prayers before. Still, he felt honored that his sempai would exert the effort to go along. Most of the people he had invited over for meals had none too subtly conveyed that his family's customs were "weird." 

Prayer and the meal commenced without incident. Ohtori's mother asked quiet, unassuming questions about Shishido, which Shishido answered straightforwardly. Ohtori became worried that Shishido would resent the questioning. He knew for a fact that this particular sempai was a terribly private person, who hated prying. He'd had several chances to prove that. 

But there seemed to be no indication that the questioning made Shishido uncomfortable. In fact, he seemed more relaxed than ever. He even beamed noticeably when Ohtori's mother pointed out how well he took care of his "lovely" reddish-brown hair. 

Ohtori's little brother -- a tall grade-schooler with a frown permanently fixed on his face -- didn't resemble him, except around the eyes. The eyes made him look gentler. Shishido assumed his features took more after Ohtori's father. 

"By the way," he said outloud, "Where's Choutarou's father?" 

Ohtori's mother gave a small smile, strangely sadder and at the same time sweeter than the one she always wore. 

"My husband has been dead for ten years," she answered. 

Shishido's face went blank. He looked away, fell silent. 

"Sometimes Uncle Jirou sits there," Ohtori's little brother supplied, nodding to an empty seat beside his mother. "But my dad used to sit there. I don't remember him much." 

Ohtori was hoping his sempai wouldn't feel unsettled. They were used to discussing his deceased father with guests. 

But Shishido let nothing else slip until he finished his meal. Then all he said was "I need to study now," with his usual haughtiness. 

******************************

They retired to Ohtori's room. Ohtori let him have the desk. He said he was just going to do his advanced reading on the bed, since he didn't have exams the following day. Sempai needed the desk more. 

Grimly, without even thanking Ohtori, Shishido took his seat, took out his books and notebooks, and tied back his hair. He was ready to begin. 

Silence lay between them. Ohtori quickly got used to it. Shishido-sempai did not give out a naturally unwelcome feeling. For that, at least, he was grateful... 

"So," Shishido said, close to an hour later, "how'd it happen?" 

The question startled Ohtori. "Huh?" 

"How'd your dad die?" 

Ohtori paused briefly. 

"Accident. Plane crash." 

"Oh." Shishido turned the page. He had not looked away from the notes he was reading. "He must have been a good man." 

Ohtori nodded. "He was. I remember. He used to play with me a lot. And he loved dogs..." 

Shishido listened quietly. After a while, he put his pencil down, spoke softly to himself: 

"It doesn't make any sense, does it." 

Ohtori waited for him to continue. His patience was soon rewarded. 

"My dad died four years ago. My mother remarried. I have to call that asshole my 'Dad' now. I can't stomach it." Shishido turned in his seat to face Ohtori who was lying on his stomach on the bed, though he still didn't meet his gaze. "She says she can't stand him either. Says he only married her for her money. But she won't leave him." 

Ohtori nodded slowly. 

"Sempai is an only child?" 

Shishido smirked. "Yeah. She says she'll never have another kid. I'm too much trouble all by myself." 

There was arrogance in that smirk, tainted with grief. Fresh grief. Ohtori felt it knocking inside him like something forgotten. 

Ten years was a long time, for Ohtori -- enough time to move on. But he could still recall how hard it had been when it had just been four years. Or even six or seven. 

"Everybody else says I look exactly like my real dad. He even wore his hair long, like this." Shishido touched his hair absently, throwing his head back and looking farther away from his companion. "He liked making people laugh. And he liked playing tennis. More than anything else." 

Shishido was about to say something more, but he caught himself. A bitter, angry look came upon his face, which made Ohtori sit up in worry. At last, Shishido met Ohtori's gaze...and Ohtori was startled by the determination that burned in his sempai's eyes. 

"I shouldn't have come here." 

Ohtori felt as if he was struck across the face. 

"Sempai...!" 

"This is the last time I'm going to take anything from you, Choutarou," Shishido was saying in a cold tone. "I need to be strong. I need to be able to handle this crap. I'm going to finish school, become an athlete, and make it on my own. I have to. If I can't even stand my ground at home, how can I hope to be stronger than that selfish prick my mother married?" 

The only thing worse than being regarded as the enemy, Ohtori decided, was being regarded as dirt. Something of his was reaching out to Shishido, and Shishido kept hitting it to one side. 

He saw, in his mind's eye, this Shishido-sempai being hurt, being hit by someone larger, stronger, older. He remembered the hard and angry look that often came into Shishido's face during practice. It was like a knife to the heart, the way things made sense... 

_"Demo, sempai!"_ Ohtori said, in a slightly louder voice. He told himself not to be too excited, lest he disturb his mother, who was getting ready to sleep in the adjacent room, "you don't have to take on everything by yourself. People are strong for each other. That's what makes them stronger!" 

Shishido's eyes were hard now. Gleaming. 

"Well, that probably works for you, Choutarou. Not me. What it all boils down to is that I'm the only one who knows what I'm going through. Nobody's there for me." He turned back to the books on Ohtori's desk, shutting off everything else, closing all avenues for argument. 

"Nobody." 

******************************

Later that night, Shishido lay on the spare _futon_ facing the wall, his back to Ohtori. 

Ohtori lay on his own mat facing his sempai. How difficult it must be to live without trusting anyone. 

But how did it happen that the stories of their lives came pouring out like that? Why did Shishido-sempai nod wordlessly when Ohtori said it was too late to go home, and that he should sleep over? 

Did it mean Shishido-sempai trusted him, at least to some extent? 

When Ohtori thought back, he couldn't remember a single time when Shishido asked anything of him. Or forced him to do anything, invoking his power as an upperclassman. 

...No, there was one time. The only time. And it was earlier that night, when he told Choutarou to bring his bag. 

Even then, it didn't seem so much a demand as it did a cry for help. 

Why wouldn't he believe that Ohtori wanted to help? That Ohtori understood? What else did he have to do? 

"Choutarou." 

Shishido saying his name in the dark roused Ohtori from bleak thoughts. "Sempai...?" 

"Why did you invite me to your house?" 

Ohtori took time to form his words, spoke slowly and with deliberate gentleness. _Shishido-sempai, I wish you would look at me._ "Well...because...you needed to be somewhere else... And it was getting late... And mine was the safest place I knew..." 

He paused for a response. There was none. 

"And because...well...I guess...I wanted you to come over, too, sempai..." 

"Choutarou." A note of sternness. 

"Huh?" 

"Don't call me 'sempai.' You can do that, right?" 

"What?" Ohtori's wide eyes blinked. "Why?" 

"Don't lump me along with those idiots who push you around. I won't make you do anything you don't want to." 

... 

Ohtori couldn't say anything. 

He didn't think anyone else cared that he was being pushed around. Much less an upperclassman. 

It always seemed like a private pain. 

A sad, grateful smile came to Ohtori's face. He never wished so badly for his sempai to turn around and meet his gaze. But Shishido never did. 

"...Alright. So what do I call you, sempai?" 

Shishido groaned. "Damn it. Ryou's okay. Give it a shot." 

"Ri -- you." Ohtori chuckled in embarrassment. "It doesn't feel right." 

"Haa, fine. Just Shishido, then." 

"Shi...shido...san?" 

No answer from the other _futon_. Finally Shishido shifted position, still facing the wall. "...At least it's not 'sempai'," he mumbled. "Maybe I can visit Rambo here sometimes..." He might have been talking to himself. 

Ohtori felt warm inside. He was probably blushing, but he didn't care. "He'd like that, too." 

He never noticed how he was able to keep that wistful smile on his face until Shishido started snoring softly, mere moments later. 

He was going to have to apologize tomorrow. He couldn't imagine himself calling Shishido as anything but "sempai." He figured that in the long run, it wouldn't matter. 

Ohtori's last thought, as he himself fell asleep, was that this was the first time in his life he felt like he could take on anything. That he _could_ be a Hyoutei regular. That he could be tougher. That no one was ever going to order him around again. 

That nothing he allowed himself to do had ever been in vain. 

That, having come this far, he was worth something. 

To someone else... 

Someone who cared about him. 

And who, admit it or not, needed what he had to give. 

  
  
(THE END) 


End file.
